Lab Rats
by Stretch1
Summary: Mutants are the scapegoats of society, forsaken and abused. How far does this abuse go? How extreme do people really take mutant experimentation?
1. Routine

Opening her violet eyes, it took her a moment to recognize where she was. It was the same every morning. At least, she thought it was morning. Another test. Tests were a part of life, the thick metal collar around her neck was a reminder of it. He found it funny to slowly drive them insane. See how they reacted without knowing what day it was, what medications have a reaction, what the side effects are. Routine. Everything was a routine, and it was killing her. 

A purple strand of hair fell as she gradually got up. Her body ached and her head was throbbing. More side effects. How long had she been there? Days? Weeks? There were just white walls, and a two-way mirror. "Fuck you," she mouthed. Whether there were someone watching her or not didn't matter. Her anger grew as the collar began to vibrate. She braced her self as it shocked her, sending her weak body to the ground. They controlled her now, using her powers against her. Thoughts of pain and anguish screamed in her mind, causing migraines and insomnia. 

Two knocks from the other side of the wall. This was the only communication she had with those around her. A type of Morse Code, and it was the only thing that kept her sane with hellish thoughts running through her mind. "Morph," she whispered, knocking twice in reply. There were at least others near her, and Psylocke was grateful of their presence. 

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Mutant Testing. The cruelty of humanity was overwhelming when society found someone who was different. Wolverine was a prime example. The adamantium skeleton he carried was a sign of humanity's intolerance to those who had gifts, and showed their desire to manipulate the powers of mutants. His dreams were becoming invaded with violent thoughts of a type of prison. No, prison wasn't the right word. Testing facility seemed more appropriate. Professor Xavier sat there, lost in his thoughts as his small class streamed into the brilliant office. 

He knew of hidden testing facilities, places where fellow mutants where treated like lab rats for the gratification of "scientists". These doctors knew nothing, just as the doctors in the concentration camps during the Holocaust knew nothing. They were there for torture, and did their jobs well. He knew of drugs that would cure the mutant disease that grew inside of them all. These scientists looked for ways to cure humanity of these beasts, and they thrived on human testing. Mutant testing, to be correct. Either way, it didn't matter to these men with their PhDs. All they cared about was dealing with the mutant problem, like it was a plague. 

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Lunch. They were only allowed to eat outside of their rooms on Sundays. It was to show them that they were cared for on this "holy" day. Bullshit. She was sure it was just another test. A test to see how they would react to seeing each other after another week of isolation. At least she got to see the others, though. 

She sat at the table they had claimed as their own. The entire cafeteria was divided into age groups, which was actually a good thing. She had gotten to know these people, as they were also in the rooms around her. There were no mirrors, but she could tell by the way the others looked that she had the same pale-yellow skin and dark circles under her eyes. They had all lost weight, and could now be confused with recovering anorexics instead of mutants used for experimentation. 

Morph sat across from her, his black hair matted down and his blue eyes looked dull and lifeless. He resembled a normal human, no physical abnormalities, and the collar around his neck kept him from changing even the color of his eyes, let alone into the form of another person. 

Marrow, however, was another story. Her bones were disfigured and protruded out of her skin like knives. However, with her body being constantly pumped by drugs, her bones grew weak and brittle, breaking off with the slightest pressure being applied to them. The scientists, of course, found this funny, occasionally grabbing one of her bones and squeezing until it burst into dust. 

Psylocke next glanced towards the blonde sitting beside her. His fair skin now sickly and his crystal-blue eyes full of sorrow. With the stress suffocating him and the constant testing, his large wings were now only sparsely covered with feathers. Angel now seemed only the shell of the person he used to be, as he looked longingly out a window on the other side of the cafeteria. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a small jab in her arm. She smiled faintly as Banshee motioned towards the salt in front of her. He couldn't speak after all the chemicals injected routinely into his body. Often he would wake up coughing, throat cracked and bleeding. He wasn't always like this, usually quite the loud mouth, literally. His yells could shatter glass and cause ears to bleed. 

She sat there, starved yet unsure of the meal sitting before her, and longed for things to be the way they were, yet wondered if they ever would be again. 


	2. Nightmares

Disclaimer: I FORGOT TO PUT A DISLCAIMER!! I DON'T OWN ANYTHING HAVING TO DO WITH X-MEN!!! I WISH I DID, BUT I DON'T!!! If I give you some chocolate, will you give me Nightcrawler??? No? FINE!

This is kind of a short chapter, I am just beginning this and seeing where it takes me. I am also finishing another fic at the moment, so when I am done with that I will have more time to devote to this one. I am also thinking of another fan fic, devoted to Nightcrawler!! Nothing in the romance department, of course, considering I hate romance fics (I have yet to write one) and he is basically a priest. Until then, here is the next chapter!!!

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Pyromaniacal Llama: Mary Sue??? ME??? NEVER!!! I SHALL DIE BEFORE I WRITE A MARY SUE…unless it is meant to be a joke. I have contemplated that thought before. I try to know the x-men as well as I can, but I know I am going to mess up sometime. Oh well, I have a right to mess up. 

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Tree: Have you seen X2 yet???

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Toto: THANKS FOR THE COMPLIMENTS!!! Wolverine is there, don't worry. I forgot to add that this is post X2, kind of an X3 for me. 

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SilverclawRose: WOO HOO!!! I'M A FAVORITE!!! Sorry I couldn't update sooner. I have been disgustingly busy!!!

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Zaron of the Red Moon: Of course I will continue!!! SEE!!! This is me continuing!!!

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Sharpsnout: Poor Banshee indeed. Don't worry, it might get worse. I am a bit morbid. Could ya tell???

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Lady Arien: Thanks!! Dark? Me? Of course. I have a slight habit of being morbid. It will involve the x-men. What is TCP??? Silly me! I'm out of the lingo loop.

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Nightcrawler stood on the roof and looked at the world surrounding him. He never expected to be accepted by such a wide variety of people. True, they were all mutants and felt somewhat the same he did, but it was nice to be able to speak to someone without encountering strange stares. At first some of the children would point and glance awkwardly towards him in the hallways, but they had gotten used to his presence as well as his compassionate ways. He thought back on the way it was a few months ago. The dark, dank tunnels that stretched for what seemed like miles under the Canadian tundra. The constant testing and he could still feel the sharp burning in the back of his neck. 

The Professor had said something about more testing facilities, having dreams of bright white corridors and doctors with masks covering their faces, hiding their identities and "protecting" them from the mutant disease they were working to eradicate. Kurt knew these doctors all too well. They may not be the same people, but they might as well be. They had the same cloned personalities, like that of Stryker, and only their faces could distinguish who they were. They always had those cold eyes and smirks on their faces, like they knew what they were doing and thrived on the pain of others. 

Kurt sat there, staring at the brilliant foliage around the school Xavier had made for people such as himself, and he prayed for the mutants trapped in such places. The white halls that were driving them from the world as well as their faith in God. He held on to the hope they would all be saved from these places of torture as he held his rosary tightly in his cloven hands. 

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She could feel him screaming inside her head. It was like this every night. If not him, than someone else. Psylocke would feel the people she knew, and had grown to love, shriek in agony while either more tests were run or the pain from previous ones was at its peak. It was Banshee this time, and, though he couldn't scream aloud, he certainly could in his mind. She could see everything he was thinking of, and soon she was able to feel the throbbing sting in his throat. Night time used to be peaceful, a time when she could reflect on the day that had past or prepare for the one that would soon begin. Now, however, night was filled with dark thoughts and sinister nightmares. 

Banshee fell asleep after the pain calmed to a dull ache and his mind was too tired to carry on. This also meant she was able to calm down for the remainder of the night, which was possibly only an hour, two if she was lucky. At least it was an hour to herself. Peaceful moments were rare and far between, and she cherished every moment when her mind wasn't filled with horrifying images and she could just relax. She sat there and wondered if she could receive thoughts from others, then can others receive thoughts from her?

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Thanks for reading chapter 2! Hope you like it!!! I'm out!

Stretch


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